


tonight, you’re a suarez

by ottermo



Category: Ugly Betty
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-20 06:14:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20223151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ottermo/pseuds/ottermo
Summary: Missing scene for 1x18, after Marc’s mother leaves and before Betty finds him on the steps outside her house.Because come on, Hilda and Ignacio definitely heard everything.





	tonight, you’re a suarez

**Author's Note:**

> Sooooo I’m coming into this fandom very late and I haven’t even finished season 1 yet, which means this fic _might_ not be canon compliant, but.... who cares. I am only here, as I am anywhere, to make sure people get hugs. 
> 
> It irritated me that Marc didn’t get much emotional payoff after his mother rejected him. The scene with Betty was nice and all, but this boy is a mess at the best of times and definitely shouldn’t have been that together. 
> 
> (Side note: did Michael Urie get awards for the scene with his mom? Because he SHOULD HAVE. The moments before her final line are absolutely heartbreaking.)
> 
> Anyway, here’s a thing that I had to write before clicking onto the next episode, I love the Suarezes a whole bunch, goodnight.

The door closed behind Jean. 

“That _bitch_,” Hilda said, choking on her own fury. 

Ignacio silently echoed the sentiment, knowing that Hilda’s rage had very little to do with the insults Ms St James had levelled at their family and everything to do with the young man left standing in the hall. 

The two of them exchanged a glance. To go out there now would be to reveal how closely they’d been listening to a private conversation, perhaps the most significant one of Marc’s life. Usually social niceties didn’t bother Hilda so much - go brash or go home - but this felt different. Bigger. Worse. 

“Better an eavesdropper than a lousy parent,” Ignacio said finally, and opened the door. Hilda stayed back, feeling her heart swell with pride in her Papi, even while it broke for Marc. She watched from the doorway as Ignacio approached the trembling form of Betty’s coworker, hunched up against the door he’d tried to stop his mother from exiting. 

“You did good, kid,” said Ignacio quietly, stopping a foot or so away. “That took some guts.” 

Marc shuddered. “You heard all that?” 

“She’s not a quiet lady.”

Actually, the tail end of the encounter _ had _ been quiet - deathly quiet - but Marc didn’t seem to notice the discrepancy. 

“What she said about your family, a-about you—”

“Don’t worry about it.” Ignacio shrugged. “I heard you defending us. If you know she was wrong about us, you have to know she’s wrong about you, too.” 

Marc let out a ragged breath. “I know it.”

_ But it doesn’t make it easier, _ Hilda finished for him. The look in his eyes turned her cold suddenly - it was all too easy to see Justin standing there, and it spoke to a fear in Hilda that no matter how much acceptance and love she lavished on her little boy, it would never quite make up for his father’s rejection. 

Ignacio reached out to pat Marc’s arm consolingly. “It’s done now, mijo. No more pretending.” 

Somehow Hilda doubted that Marc’s knowledge of Spanish stretched far enough to know the significance of ‘mi hijo’ – and even if it did, he wouldn’t know how rare it was for Ignacio to use such a familial term on anybody who wasn’t a Suarez by birth. Hilda couldn’t even remember Walter being addressed that way. But it made sense - she wasn’t the only one seeing a glimpse of a future Justin tonight. Her father was evidently making the link, too, and it was compounding his already-kind-of paternal instincts.

Whether or not his adoption had been noted, the touch of Ignacio’s hand was apparently too much for Marc, whose face crumpled. This, in turn, pushed Hilda over the edge - she crossed the room before his sobs became audible, and had him gathered in her arms once they were. Ignacio stepped back a little, watching her over Marc’s shoulder with sad eyes and an approving nod. 

“Hey. Hey, it’s okay, I got you,” Hilda murmured. 

At a loss for anything else to say, she recycled similar words over a few times, until finally Marc drew away of his own accord. He began wiping his face with a handkerchief that matched his shirt.

“You can stay with us tonight, if you want,” Hilda said softly.

“I’ll be fine,” he said, and to his credit, his voice did sound mostly like his usual self again. “I just – need some air.” 

Hilda opened the door for him, and contemplated going to sit with him on the steps outside. In the end, she decided to let him have a little space. 

“Justin’s a lucky kid,” Marc said, not looking back at her. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. If you were my mother…”

He trailed off. The words didn’t really need to be said. 

“If I was your mother, it would be a miracle,” Hilda said, when the silence was too much. “I’m pretty sure we’re the same age.” 

He hummed in acknowledgement of the joke. 

“Anyway. You deserve more than her,” Hilda said, frankly. “I hope you know that.”

He made no reply, but bowed his head slightly. 

Hilda remembered her resolve to give him space. 

“Goodnight, Marc,” she said. “And hey. Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

She got the feeling he wouldn’t be rushing back to Queens any time soon - Betty had complained enough about Marc for Hilda to know he wasn’t usually like this: soft and vulnerable and, well, human. Already the wall of snoot was building back up, but she could hardly begrudge him his feigned dignity on a night like this one.

“Goodnight,” he returned.

Hilda closed the door, and turned to see Justin looking down at her from the top of the stairs. He had an odd look on his face, one she’d struggle to name if she was asked. Bittersweet, maybe. 

“You comin’ down, Baby?” she asked. “It’s not late. We could get a game set up.” 

Justin made his way downstairs, and joined her with a kiss on her cheek.

“What’s that for?” 

“No reason.”

She watched her swishy son go, and couldn’t be prouder. 


End file.
